


And then you’ll know I ache for you

by smaragdbird



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Possibly Unrequited Love, author isn't sure where the hell this ship came from, indirect love confession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 15:42:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17327798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaragdbird/pseuds/smaragdbird
Summary: Written for Day 3: “naughty or nice” of the 12 days of CarnivalLieutenant Hodgson invites Gibson to share his Christmas pudding with him





	And then you’ll know I ache for you

“Good evening, sir”, Gibson said when he entered Hodgson’s cabin after knocking. The Christmas dinner had delayed him in his usual duties. Irving had already been asleep and Little had told him to leave it until tomorrow.

“Good evening, Mr Gibson”, Hodgson returned the greeting. He had dressed down already, with his clothes resting on the back of the only chair in the cabin. “How was your Christmas dinner?”

“Enjoyable, thank you.” It had been a quiet affair, especially compared to last year. With only a handful of them left on Terror, though Tozer had certainly drunk enough to make up for the missing men. “And yours, sir?” 

He wouldn’t have made this kind of small talk with Little or Irving but Hodgson had known him for years and had helped him getting a position on the expedition.

“Small, I’m sorry we couldn’t celebrate with the Erebites as last year”, Hodgson admitted. “I know you already ate but I haven’t touched my Christmas pudding yet and wondered if you’d share with me.”

“Are you sure, sir?” Gibson asked.

“Please”, Hodgson answered, gesturing for him to sit down. The small Christmas pudding sitting on Hodgson’s desk smelled heavenly and that Hodgson was already in his shirtsleeves helped with the informality of the situation and reminded him of their confinement in comfort cove when they had both suffered from malaria.

There was only one chair so Hodgson sat down on the edge of his bed instead. There was also only one plate and fork so they had to pass it back and forth between them. The Christmas pudding was the same that had been served to the men unlike other ships where the officers would eat better than the rest of the crew.

“I believe you made the right choice staying on Terror”, Hodgson said, passing the plate back to Gibson. “It’ll merit you more good conduct badges with all the extra work you’re shouldering. When we come back to England, you’ll be able to pick and choose your next ship.”

Privately Gibson doubted that they would make it back to England at all, much less that they’d be given promotions for an expedition that had yielded no results.

“What about you, sir? Any plans?” He forced himself to ask after swallowing another mouthful of Christmas pudding.

“I’ll take anything that isn’t Channel duty”, Hodgson confided. His light tone made Gibson wonder if he had taken a page from the Captain’s book and indulged in his drink a little too much at the Christmas dinner. “What about you, Mr. Gibson?”

He shrugged. “My father’s been making plans to go to Australia, so maybe I’ll join him.”

His answer seemed to surprise Hodgson. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d give up sailing.”

“Four years as a domestic won’t count towards my sailing experience, so I’m either stuck as a steward or an ordinary seaman and no one’s falling over themselves to hire one of them.” He hadn’t meant to sound so bitter but the truth was that the expedition had failed and failure wasn’t rewarded.

“I am sure Mr. Peglar will vouch for your abilities and you will always have my support”, Hodgson said with so much sincerity that Gibson believed him.

“You already did so much for me”, he murmured before taking another bite of the pudding.

“Not enough to secure you the position you deserve”, Hodgson replied and made a refusing gesture when Gibson wanted to pass him the last piece left on the plate. “Please, you’re my guest tonight Mr. Gibson, you should have it.”

Gibson hesitated for a moment but then finished the Christmas pudding. “Thank you, sir.”

“You have – “Hodgson gestured to Gibson’s face and then reached out, brushing a few crumbs from the corner of his mouth. Their eyes met and instead of recoiling from the touch, Gibson wrapped his hand around Hodgson’s wrist to keep it where it was.

He spared a brief thought for Hickey but pushed it aside when he gave a tiny nod and Hodgson crushed their mouths together like he had been waiting for this chance since Africa. There was a desperation to his kiss, a longing, like a man who had been starving himself at a feast. His clumsiness and uncertainty also spoke of inexperience. The slightest push made him yield, something Hickey had never done.

But with Hodgson it was easy to push him down on the bed, it was easy to claim his mouth and swallow his moans, and it was easy to guide his hand inside Gibson’s breeches.

They rutted against each other like animals and it was over quickly but Gibson couldn’t help but think of Hodgson as beautiful when he saw him splayed out against the sheets, flushed and panting and thoroughly dishevelled.

“I apologise, Mr. Gibson, I don’t know – “ 

Gibson managed to interrupt him with a single look. “It’s fine, sir. You and I know these things happen on ships.”

Hodgson looked down, his cheeks becoming even redder, every image the blushing virgin. And when he quickly glanced up at his lips, Gibson understood. He leaned over, sliding his hand into Hodgson’s hair and kissed him as sweetly as he could muster for as long as possible.

“I should go, sir”, he said, rolling off of Hodgson and getting up to his feet. He smoothed over his clothes and collected the plate and fork.

“Of course, I didn’t…I didn’t mean to keep you from your duties, Mr. Gibson.” He stood up as well and stood so close to Gibson that they almost touched without meaning to. “Will I see you again?” His question was barely a whisper.

Hodgson was not a good liar and he would struggle to be as discreet as necessary but he was also an officer, outranked Irving and was a favourite of Captain Fitzjames. He could make a worse choice. “Yes.”

The relief on Hodgson’s face was palpable. “Good night then, Mr. Gibson.”

“Good night, sir.”


End file.
